


The winner takes it all

by Mischiefy



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: ABBA, Actor!Magnus Bane, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Break Up, Emotional Infidelity, Endgame Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, F/M, Getting Back Together, Inspired by Music, M/M, No cheating, Scene of an explicit sexual nature, You Have Been Warned, musician!Alec Lightwood, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24943186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mischiefy/pseuds/Mischiefy
Summary: “I-Alec, I think I’ve fallen in love with her. God, I-I’m so sorry” Magnus is crying as he speaks, pulling at his hair, struggling with himself and what he feels.Though he’s breaking my heart, I can’t help but feel sorry for him, too, because despite everything else, I know he would never hurt me on purpose, and seeing me like this… It can’t be easy.
Relationships: Alec Lightwood/Original Male Character(s), Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane/Camille Belcourt
Comments: 74
Kudos: 260





	1. No more ace to play

**Author's Note:**

> So. I have two horribly complex exams coming up next week, but I wrote this instead. I'm an idiot.  
> At any rate, I hope you at least get some enjoyment out of my foolishness.
> 
> -Unbeta'd-

**The winner takes it all**

_I don't want to talk_ _  
If it makes you feel sad  
And I understand  
You've come to shake my hand  
I apologize  
If it makes you feel bad  
Seeing me so tense  
No self-confidence  
But you see  
The winner takes it all_

**THEN**

“I-Alec, I think I’ve fallen in love with her. God, I-I’m so sorry” Magnus is crying as he speaks, pulling at his hair, struggling with himself and what he feels.

Though he’s breaking my heart, I can’t help but feel sorry for him, too, because despite everything else, I know he would never hurt me on purpose, and seeing me like this… It can’t be easy.

“I understand” My words are clipped and I can’t really look at him- it’s the best I can do at the moment.

I want to cry so badly, but I don’t really want him to see me falling apart, so I try my hardest to keep it together.

Just a little longer.

He’s waiting for me to say something else- and does he expect me to _shout_? To throw insults at him? I won’t do that. None of this is his fault.

There simply is nothing else for me to add- _I understand_. That’s all. I can’t give him more than that.

“Talk to me, Alec, please” he begs, and I don’t like hearing the strain of pain cracking his usually smooth tone.

“I… don’t think I can, right now” I admit, my words tilted, hesitant.

“I’m sorry” I add, because I really am.

I would like to be able to have an honest, mature conversation about this, but I’m not that strong.

All I want to do at the moment is curl up and cry.

Magnus lets out a broken chuckle which sounds a bit like a sob “No, don’t be sorry. That’s ok” he says, and I hate it, the fondness permeating his words. I don't want it. 

I close my eyes, inhaling deeply “I think- I need to leave, for a bit.”

“Of course. Whatever you need, Alexander. I’ll be here when you come back”

And a part of me wants to shout at him to stop calling me “ _Alexander_ ” because he’s lost that right the moment he went and fell in love with someone else, because he’s hurting me like nobody ever has, because I’d trusted him with myself and he let me down, just like everyone always has.

But I can’t tell him that. I won’t. It wouldn’t be fair to him.

So I leave instead, without even having the strength to look at him for the last time.

He says he’ll be here when I come back, but I know he won’t. I’ve seen that _fucking_ plane ticket on his bedside table this morning. He’s leaving New York in less than two hours- he’s going to L.A., to _her_.

**NOW**

“…and that was Alec Lightwood with The Winner Takes It All, people!”

I smile at the audience, bowing my head in thanks as I put the mic back on its stand.

It’s truly surprising, really, how many people took a liking to this song. Everybody seems to love it. I would have never guessed.

“Come here, mate, take a seat! Let’s chat a little” the host, Michael Johnson, sends a brilliantly fake smile my way.

I plop myself down on the stuffed, velvet-covered couch, and immediately make myself comfortable, taking a sip of water from the mug sitting in front of me.

And while I’m getting reasonably good at this- meaning the whole talk show thing-, I still don’t like it. I despise it, in fact. It’s a necessary evil, though, and it’s a small price to pay when I get to make a living out of my music.

“Michael! It’s wonderful to see you again!” I shake his sweaty hand with a perfectly polite smile on my face.

“Ah, it’s been too long, mate” he comments pleasantly.

Not nearly long enough, _mate_ , I think resignedly as I chuckle “It really has”

“So” he leans forward “The Winner Takes It All... It’s a beautiful song, man, really beautiful” and he looks honest, too, as he says it.

My smile turns a little more real “Thank you”

“I heard you wrote it what- five years ago?” he asks curiously drumming absentmindedly his fingers on the desk.

I nod, a little sheepish “I did, yeah. It’s a pretty personal song, very dear to my heart, and I honestly didn’t think I would ever sing it to anybody else… but then my manager found it in my notebook, and she all but forced me to put it into the new album. I’m glad she did, though, because a lot of people seem to recognize themselves into those words”

Michael smiled “I’m glad she did, too- I mean, it’s topped the charts everywhere!”

I chuckle “Yeah. I’m tremendously humbled by the way it’s been welcomed by everybody.”

Michael laughs “ And what about the album, then? Can you tell us a little more about it?”

By the time I’m back home, it’s way past midnight.

I’m absolutely worn out- my limbs feel so fucking heavy, and I’ve got the world’s worst headache.

It’s so bad I can’t be bothered to even switch on the fucking light nor change out of my stage clothes.

I just plant face-down onto my sweet, wonderfully soft mattress and pass out.

God, I truly fucking hate talk-shows.


	2. And the the loser has to fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus and Alec talk. Miscommunication happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, three things:  
> 1-As you might have noticed, there are now three chapters to this story. I'm sorry but I had to cut this one short because it was waaaaaay too long. I mean, it's almost 4000 words and we're not even half done.  
> 2-I wrote this on the spur of the moment. I haven't had the time to proof-read it yet, even though this chapter really needs it- I'm sure I've mixed up tenses and words and everything. I will get it done as soon as I can.  
> Honestly, though, writing this has been hell, people. I only hope it makes enough sense, ehehe.  
> 3-Alec's thoughts might be a little messy. Sometimes he contradicts himself, others he simply shuts down. That's done purposefully, because he himself is a mess, at the moment. He'll get better, I promise.

**THEN**

I spend most of the subsequent afternoon wandering aimlessly around New York.

My head is buzzing and I’m feeling terribly, devastatingly numb. _Empty_.

On some sort of level, my brain realizes I’ve most probably fallen into a state of shock- I can’t really bring myself to care, though.

Magnus doesn’t love me anymore, and I’m not sure what to do with myself now.

I wish I was surprised, really, but I’m not of the habit of lying, not even to myself. Truth is, I knew this was coming.

I’ve known for a long time. Ever since Magnus signed that damned contract, ever since he first told me about this new series of Ragnor’s, Downworlders.

He’s risen to fame and I’m still here, living in a shitty, one-room apartment while I try to make a living out of my music. He’s been walking red carpets, drinking champagne with producers, and hanging out with his attractive co-stars for a long time now. They all want a piece of him. He’s the rising star of our generation, a heart-throb.

It’s worse than anything I’ve ever felt. Anything. This feeling of being… _discarded_ , tossed aside.

Worse than the time my parents threw me out on the streets, worse than that last call with Jace and Izzy.

The pain is so much it feels like I’m struggling to breathe.

I’m gasping for air- and there’s nobody around to save me.

Nobody cares. The only person who did care has just left me. _For someone else_.

Oh God, I can’t think about it.

I sit down on the nearest patch of grass, curling up on myself and bringing my head between my knees.

Counting from one to ten, again and again, I try to regulate my breathing.

It’s fucking hard, but I do it- and the moment my brain begins to clear of all the fog and the mist of my panic, I realize there’s only one thing left for me to do.

Leaving.

I need to get outta here.

**NOW**

_I’m in town for a while- want to meet up for a coffee?_

_Please, say yes. I owe you an apology._

_Magnus._

_P.s. I’m at Java’s almost every morning around 8 a.m._

I blink, staring down at the scribbled card I’ve just found under my door. Really? _Really_?!

After five years, that’s what he comes up with?

I ignore the sharp sting of longing and melancholy brought back by Magnus’s familiar handwriting and toss the card aside.

This is ridiculous. He’s ignored me for the last five years- and, I mean, the last time we spoke to each other was the time he broke up with me!- and now he doesn’t even have the balls to come up to me and ask me directly.

A card. A fucking _card_.

And what brought this on, anyway? Why now, of all times?

What’s changed?

The worst part of me- the cowardly one, the one I’ve learned to ignore so well in the last five years- wants me to ignore the message and keep on living my life as if this never happened, as if Magnus had never tried to reach out to me, had never taken the first step forward in my direction.

But I know, rationally, that I can’t afford to overlook this. He owes me an explanation. I deserve to hear why I spent the last five years of my life trying to get over him.

All those nights spent crying, the loneliness, the sense of unworthiness, the way I’ve become almost unable to open myself up to anyone.

What he did scarred me, hurt me in ways I never thought I could be hurt.

So yeah, I want to hear what he had to say, what he should have told me that day, when he promised me “I’ll be here when you come back”, _we’ll talk then_.

And it’s pathetic, the way I can almost still hear his words in my ears even after all this time.

 _I’m pathetic_. But maybe- just maybe- meeting him again will provide the closure I need. Maybe that’s what it takes for me to move on. Maybe I’ll start feeling something again.

I’ve never liked Java Café, despite the staff’s discretion and its surprising popularity among the famous crowd.

The coffee is way overpriced and not nearly strong enough, and most of the pastries they have to offer are either vegan or low carb. _Low carb_. Ugh.

It is, however, a very Magnus place, with its oriental design and the vast variety of extravagant teas and fancy liquors displayed on their shelves.

Very purposefully, I show up at Java Café two days after receiving the card.

I’m feeling slightly nervous as I push the glass door open- _what if Magnus isn’t here? What if he is? What if I start crying the moment I see him?_

I see him first- he hasn’t noticed me yet, and I’m strangely grateful for it, because it gives me a moment to study him without being examined back. It’s an advantage.

He’s changed, that’s the first thing I notice.

This Magnus looks like the 2.0 edition of the Magnus I remember. He’s evolved into a more sophisticated version of himself. He’s wearing silk and sunglasses and gold, and he’s so beautiful and unworldly that he looks completely out of reach.

I wonder idly if he’s always given off this… cold impression, for lack of a better word. If he’s always appeared so standoffish.

I’m almost scared to approach him- and _that_ ’s where I draw the line.

 _Snap out of it, Lightwood, damn it_.

I most certainly shouldn’t be scared of approaching him, not when he’s the one who asked me to come.

Not when he’s the cause of so many of my issues.

Plus, even though I might be feeling like him, I am not the lost, penniless boy he left behind that day.

I’m Alexander _fucking_ Lightwood, and I’m one of the most famous pop-stars around. I’ve met the fucking Queen, for fuck’s sake - I certainly won’t cower before an asshole sitting in a café.

With a mighty sigh, I square my shoulders and approach him the way one might approach a wild beast.

Magnus eyes are hidden behind the dark lenses –and, really, why would you keep your shades inside when there are no flashes nor cameras around?- but I can see the moment he recognizes me by the way he stiffens on his chair.

Magnus lowers his phone and straightens himself up.

His lips open up in a bright smile –and why can’t I see anything past the way he was crying before breaking up with me? Even his smile, now, feels foreign- and he slides off his shades.

His eyes are warm and welcoming, and I feel slightly less out of place.

“Alexander” he greets softly, and I have to make a conscious effort not to wince at my full name.

Nobody has ever called me that. Nobody but him.

It feels odd hearing it once again, even though I’d been expecting it.

“Magnus” I can’t pretend to be pleased to see him- I’m not the actor, here- but at least his name doesn’t come out too weird from my lips.

“You came” he states, and he looks almost relieved.

Why would he be relieved, anyway? This is going to be awkwardly painful for both of us.

“Yeah”

I shrug and take off my blue cap –the one I use mainly for disguise purposes- as I sit down across the table.

The waitress- Elaine- is on us even before my butt manages to touch the chair.

Stupid fancy café.

Magnus orders a _Grande Chai Tea Latte, 3 Pump, Skim Milk, Lite Water, No Foam, Extra Hot,_ and I can’t help but stare in undisguised horror as the waitress takes it all in stride.

Come on, it’s ridiculous!

But Magnus winks at me and my scandalized face, which makes it even worse.

I order a black coffee, and I notice with a small measure of glee Elaine’s shoulders sagging in relief.

“So- how have you been?” Magnus asks the moment Elaine is out of our sight.

“Fine” I reply a little stiffly “You?”

Magnus waves his hand, almost dismissively “I’ve been well enough.” And I hate how nonchalant he is, the way he almost seems unaffected by all of this- by me.

I fix a smile on my face and soldier on.

“I saw you at the Oscars, by the way. I’m glad you won. The High Warlock of Brooklyn is a wonderful movie.” I say sincerely enough. It’s not that I didn’t like it. It’s more that it reminds me way too much of our relationship.

Truth is- I stopped watching after barely half an hour.

But Magnus looks honestly surprised “You watched it?”

I frown “Why wouldn’t I?”

Now it’s Magnus’s turn to shrug uneasily “I didn’t think you would want to see me, even if it was on a screen” he replies with more honesty than I was expecting.

“I avoided watching anything with you in it for a long time” I concede “But it’s been five years. I can stand you, now” I tease as I say the last part.

Magnus smiles his fakest smile “I’m glad”

Elaine saves us from an awkward silence as she comes back and serves us our drinks.

“Thank you” I smile at her and she blushes beet red, which makes my smile widen even more. She’s adorable, really.

Magnus watches the exchange with something akin confusion and amusement in his eyes. I ignore him and his questioning stare, opting to take a sip of coffee.

And yeah, I barely manage to conceal a wince. The coffee is just as bad as I remembered.

“So” I’m the first to talk, because I’m getting tired of this charade. “Why did you want to meet me?” I ask as politely as I can.

Magnus flinches “You’re just as blunt as I remember, you know”

I shrug unapologetically –I most certainly didn’t come here to _catch up_ with an old friend- and wait for him to answer as I sip my coffee.

“I heard your new song,” Magnus says at last, hesitant, choosing carefully his words. He isn’t looking at me- his eyes are fixed on the neon green straw of his drink. “Some of the things you wrote-” his voice breaks off “But I never did tell you anything, did I? I didn’t explain, I didn’t apologize. You were the one person I would have never wanted to hurt- yet you were the one I hurt the most. You deserve to hear the whole story. Then Ragnor told me you were in town, and I thought…well, why the hell not?”

And I don’t really know how to answer that.

I drum absentmindedly my fingers on the table as I turn his words around in my head.

My _song_. That’s what brought this on. Magnus must have realized it’s about him- about _us_. It doesn’t surprise me, to be honest. It’s not like you need to be a genius to figure _that_ out. What does surprise me, though, is the way Magnus’ eyes are avoiding mine, the way his bejeweled fingers are playing uneasily with the straw of his drink.

He’s nervous, I realize. More nervous than I’ve ever seen him. I _almost_ feel sorry for him.

“So tell me, then. Explain.” I suggest kindly, already weary of the conversation.

There’s a flash of surprise in Magnus’ eyes at my easy acceptance–and why would he be surprised? I’m here, aren’t I? It means I want to hear him out- then he clears his throat.

I take another sip of that dreadful brown _thing_ they dare call coffee, here, as I wait for him to gather his thoughts.

And he looks so familiar like this- behind all the makeup, all the glitter, I’m starting to recognize him.

It’s in the little crease between his brows, in the way he’s biting lightly his lower lip, in the hand that comes up to play with the golden earring adorning his left ear- I intimately recognize them, all these little quirks of his.

Finally, Magnus clears his throat –and is he blushing?- and meets my eyes head-on. He looks determined, now. His jaw set, shoulders squared.

He’s stunning.

“Alright. Before even getting into it _-_ I _never_ cheated on you. I hope you know that, Alexander. I broke up with you the moment I realized I was falling in love with Camille”

Well, _damn_.

I flinch visibly at his words- he isn’t pulling his punches, is he?- and Magnus looks like he’s starting to regret his bluntness.

“Sorry” he mutters under his breath.

I wave his apology away –it’s not like this is anything new. I just wasn’t expecting him to throw it in my face like that- and force my lips to curl up in a small smile.

“I know that, Magnus.” I say gently “I never doubted you”

His eyebrows rise in surprise “You didn’t?”

I shake my head “I really didn’t. I trusted you- I still do, as a matter of fact.” And it’s true. Magnus has never broken the trust I had in him, he’s never betrayed me in the strict sense of the word. He’s been more honest than many people are in his situation.

Magnus's face becomes unreadable for a moment –and what is he _thinking_?- before he starts to smile.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

I can’t smile back, though. What is making him this happy now has rendered me a pitiful, crying mess in the past.

The fact is- I never felt like I could place the blame for my sufferings on him. Not when his behavior had been this fair, this irreprehensible. For the longest time, I’ve felt guilty as hell for despising him. He didn’t really deserve my hate, did he? I was pushing on him all of my faults, all of my failures.

It’s taken me a long time to realize that feelings aren’t really fair, nor just. And even now, sometime, I keep struggling with that.

So no, I can’t smile back, and I watch almost detachedly as Magnus’ own smile dims at the absence of my own.

He sighs, looking almost disappointed, and takes a sip of his coffee.

“You know- I met Camille at one of Ragnor’s parties.” He starts out almost carelessly, his eyes far away from me and this café. He’s remembering her as he speaks, and I can’t help but hate him for that. “She was beautiful. She liked me- and she _understood_ me”

I frown “And I didn’t?”

“No- I mean, _yes_ , but…” he trails off, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You remember those last few months, don’t you?” he asks quietly.

And of course I do- how could I not? I remember _everything_.

How Magnus had started to slip away from me, his late nights out, our fights. I’d been jealous- tremendously so. The shots on the magazines of him laughing and hugging and kissing other people, the gossip, the articles about his supposed flings.

In hindsight, I’d been right. My jealousy had been justified. But back then- Magnus used to laugh it off, used to tell me I was acting way too possessive. We fought so much over all that shit.

“Yeah, I remember” my answer is simple, but the strain in my voice is clearly audible.

Magnus nods grimly “Everything felt so new, so perfect. I wanted _that_ life, Alexander. And she- she was intoxicating. Everything felt- bland, compared to her, to her world. And she _liked_ me, Alexander. She showed me the way, introduced me to the right people, helped me out” Magnus exhales deeply and looks away, unable to meet my eyes.

And even though he doesn’t know it, I can understand perfectly what he’s talking about. I felt almost the same after the success of my first album, skyrocketing towards the top with nobody to hold you back.

It doesn’t make it any less painful, though. Understanding isn’t the same as accepting.

“I fell in love with her without even realizing it, Alexander, and even now, I’m not sure whether I was ever really in love with her or simply with the life she was leading.”

I shrug, unable to bring myself to care about that, of all things.

What do I care if he fell in love with _someone_ else or some _thing_ else?

The bottom line is the same. He stopped loving me. He left me.

I forcefully push away the familiar sting of betrayal, the anger, the bitter disappointment twirling at the pit of my stomach, and nod instead.

Magnus is looking at me apprehensively, now, and I try to smile as reassuringly as I can.

“Alright, I get it,” I say, because it’s the easiest answer I can think of. Not that I don’t “get it”, because I do, but there’s so much more to this, much more than the superficial infatuation Magnus is talking about.

There’s a flash of –disappointment? Anger? In his warm brown eyes, but it’s gone so suddenly I wonder if it was ever there.

Magnus fixes a relieved smile on his face “You do?” he wonders.

“I’ve been there, too, Magnus, you know” I point out, taking a sip of my terrible coffee.

And damn it, cold is even worse. How is that possible?

Magnus’ eyes widen a little as understanding downs upon them “Right. I hadn’t thought about it”

I shrug “Music industry isn’t much worse than Hollywood, you know. I remember what it was like at the beginning. I got together with someone, too, for your exact same reasons”

Now- _that_ is a lie. I _never_ loved James, even though I did sleep with him more than once.

I never mistook that for love. _Never_.

Magnus’s expression turns unreadable at my words, then a soft smile curves up his lips.

“I’m glad you understand, then,” he says quietly.

I squash down the urge to scoff- because, really, understanding has never been the problem, here.

This whole conversation- I’m beginning to realize how pointless it is.

What was there to clear up, anyway? Even the things he’s just told me- I already knew them, on some sort of level.

Magnus would never be able to answer my real doubts.

He would never be able to tell me why I’m never enough for anyone, why my love is something so many people run away from. What did I do wrong? What did _that_ world have to offer, that I couldn’t give him?

Because yes, while I do remember my first years as a rising star in the music industry and all the distractions and glory that came with it, I also remember how alone I used to feel. Everybody around me was fake, everybody was desperate for my attention, and I still remember how _desperate_ I felt for someone to honestly, truly care for me instead.

I would’ve given my left arm to have somebody that loved me as earnestly as I had loved Magnus back then.

Because while I had no one, Magnus had had me.

But there is no point in saying all of this out loud, is there?

Magnus surely doesn’t care about my depressed, introspective musings, and I’m not sure I would even be able to share them with him.

“Alexander?” Magnus calls, and I realize I’ve been silent for a long time.

I force a smile on my lips and shrug at his questioning stare “I zoned out for a second-sorry” I admit, a little sheepish.

“Anyway- If that’s all, I understand and it’s ok, Magnus, really.” I’m about to jump up and run away from this blasted place, but Magnus grabs my hand, eyes pleading.

“It wasn’t everything- could you please give me five more minutes?”

I frown at him and slowly sit back down on the chair.

“I still haven’t said sorry, you know. I haven’t apologized, not properly.” He says, smiling self-deprecatingly.

I shrug “I don’t get why you would apologize. You’ve explained your reasons, that’s enough”

And, really, why would he apologize? It’s not like he _chose_ to fall out of love with me.

Magnus frowns, leaning forward “It’s not nearly enough, Alexander. I may have acted decently, but that doesn’t mean my actions didn’t hurt you.”

I sigh “That’s not on you, though, is it? You chose this just as much as I did- which is not at all”

Magnus’ frown deepens, and for a moment he looks like he’s about to say something before he promptly falls silent.

He smiles, but there’s something incredibly sad in the way he does it “Will you let me say it anyway? Please?”

I study him for a moment. Why is this so important to him?

“Go ahead, then,” I say with a shrug.

Magnus takes a deep breath, then meets my confused stare with his own “I’m incredibly, terribly sorry for what I did, Alexander. I left you when I promised I never would, and I broke your heart when I promised I would love you for the rest of your life. You will never know how deeply I regret all of that. Truly”

He looks sincere, too, when he says it. _Sincere_. Ah!

I repress the urge to laugh at him- these words mean nothing. His actions speak way, way louder than this little speech of his.

And it’s incredibly sad, really, because our conversation up until now has been earnest, honest- on my part, that is.

Why does he have to go and ruin everything by bullshitting me now, of all moments?

So I keep a straight face and nod “I forgive you” I concede easily, pretending not to see how hurt he is at my levity.

He smiles “Thank you”, he says.

But then he turns hesitant, unsure.

I frown “What is it?”

He clears his throat and offers me a little, hopeful smile “If you don’t mind, then, we could try and be friends? I-Well, I missed having you in my life.”

I try to smile back “We can try, why not?” I accept easily if a little forcefully.

“Thank you,” he tells me with wide, grateful eyes, and I don’t know why but for a moment there, a tiny little moment, I hate all that he is and all that he’s done to me.


	3. The game is on again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, there are just a couple of things I'd like to say, then I'll leave you to the new chapter.  
> 1- This chapter is what earns this story its rating. There's sex and alcohol abuse and what have you. Please, be careful if you're easily triggered by these kinds of things. I think I put everything there is to know up in the tags, but I just wanted to point them out again. If you'd like a clean version of this chapter, just write me down in the comment section and I'll find a way to send it to you.  
> Oh! And if you think I should up the rating to Explicit just let me know, please. I'll be glad to do it.  
> 2-I'm tremendously sorry for the delay. I've had a few rough weeks, and I couldn't seem to find the time to just sit down and write. Again, I'm sorry. But hey, I'm here now, aren't I? :)  
> 3-This chapter is a jumbled mess of thoughts, feelings, and long speeches. I hope you'll like it nevertheless :)  
> 4-Thank you for sticking with me. I'm humbled by the way this story has been welcomed by you all. I hope this last chapter won't let you down.
> 
> That said, happy reading!
> 
> -unbeta'd-

**THEN**

“Fuck” I curse as Blondie pushes me forcefully back against the wall, his mouth licking deliciously down the column of my throat.

I can feel him inside me- it fucking hurts, but the pain isn’t nearly enough. I want more. I need more. I can still feel the gaping void inside my chest that is Magnus's absence.

 _He left me_.

“Harder” I beg, and it’s half a sob, half a plea.

Blondie moans, biting down hard on my neck as his thrusts get deeper, more forceful.

I gasp at the sudden sting, my fingers leaving angry red marks onto his shoulders where they’re gripping him tightly.

And it’s not _sweat_ that's rolling down my cheeks as I let him fuck me into oblivion, hoping against hope that I'll be able to feel like myself again by the time he's done with me.

**NOW**

I naively thought I would be able to deal with it, with Magnus being back in my life.

Well, I was wrong.

After almost six months since our little heart to heart, I’ve now reached a point where I can’t stand him, his eyes, the way he smiles at me when he shows up uninvited at some of my concerts, my friends’ parties, my favorite café. I don’t want him there, I don’t want him anywhere near me. Ignoring him isn’t enough, leaving a room whenever he steps inside it isn’t nearly remotely sufficient, because my fucking traitorous body _knows_. It always does, growing alert, restless the very moment Magnus is within ten feet from me.

And I can’t fucking stand it, the power he apparently still holds over me, the way I always feel a little weaker, almost hesitant in his presence.

He makes me question myself, my strength, my life up until now- because I thought I’d grown stronger, I’d believed myself unshakable, steady. I thought I knew what I wanted, and what I didn’t want. Apparently I don’t.

I don’t know a single thing. I never did. And Magnus Bane is fucking with my mind again.

It’s not like I don’t deserve it, though, is it? It’s my own fucking fault for agreeing to be his friend.

I snort into my glass, ignoring resolutely the weirded out stares other guests are sending my way.

 _Friend_.

As if I could ever allow him back into my life again.

No, that ship has already sailed and sunk. The fucking Titanic, it was.

“Having a good time?” a soft, manly voice asks from somewhere beside me.

I raise my eyes to meet a pair of gorgeous green ones and grin, because I need to get Magnus fucking Bane out of my head and this guy right here looks like he’ll do the job nicely.

“I am, now” I answer smoothly, taking a sip of champagne without looking away.

He’s interested, that much is obvious, and he looks like he could be a good lay. But, most importantly, his skin is pale and his hair is blond. He’s as different from Magnus as a man could possibly get.

It’s only a matter of minutes – then I’m already leading him away from all the chatter of the party and into one of the empty rooms on the upper floor of Lydia’s decadent villa, a full bottle of tequila in my hands.

I’m wasted and high and completely fucked when I decide I need to go looking for Magnus- he should be here somewhere, I know that because I think I saw him strutting around with Ragnor earlier.

And what is he even doing at my manager’s birthday party, I’ll never know. Maybe it’s part of his plan to get back into my good graces.

I laugh out loud at the last part. My _good graces_. That’s funny.

“Whass so f’nny?” green-eyes slurs from where he’s lying on the unmade bed.

He’s still naked and I let my eyes wander over his gorgeous body. God, I was right. He’s a fucking _epic_ lay. For a moment there I forgot even my own name.

With clumsy hands, I button up my shirt- and why the hell are there so many fucking buttons?- before stumbling towards the door.

Without another word to the guy –he’s a good lay, yes, but not _that_ good-, I leave the room and go looking for Magnus Bane.

 _And why am I even looking for him?_ I wonder, almost amused by my own foolishness.

My purposeful gait falters for a moment as I try to remember why am I doing what I’m doing, but then it picks back up at full speed as I recall the details of my latest intercourse.

And then yeah, it makes sense, because Magnus had the guts to haunt me even while I was fucking someone else, my lover’s green eyes turning suddenly into hazel ones, his blond hair becoming of the deepest black under the soft light of the pink abatjour.

That fucking asshole couldn’t leave me alone even after I went to all this trouble to try and not think about him for a fucking _second_.

How dare he?

I find Magnus curled up on the swings at the furthest end of Lydia’s well-kept garden, away from all the laughter and the music and the people.

As I slowly approach him, I wonder idly as to what he’s exactly doing here when I know perfectly well how much of a social butterfly he is.

By now I’m mostly sober –it took me a long time and at least six floors of stairs to find him- and so I notice the way his shoulders are slightly curved, the sharp lines marring his forehead, and the tired, defeated air he has about him.

He isn’t smiling, nor is he wearing that infuriatingly polite, concerned look of his that he’s taken to wearing around me all the time, as if afraid he’ll say something that will make me burst into tears.

No, this is the real, the raw Magnus Bane- the one I haven’t seen in years.

No pretenses, no masks. That’s him right there. Magnus. My Magnus. And he looks like he’s having some sort of break down.

I freeze on the spot the moment I realize he probably doesn’t want me around in a moment like this one- despite his clumsy attempts, we really aren’t friends, and I can’t imagine the presence of an ex-boyfriend is what he needs right now.

So I’m about to just turn around and leave him to it when he finally speaks.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he says quietly, defeated.

For a moment I wonder whether he’s talking to himself or to me –does he even know I’m here?- but his eyes suddenly find me in the darkness and there’s really no mistaking it.

I frown at him and his ambiguous words as I sit down on the swing, right next to him.

And damn, his smell is fucking intoxicating- it takes me a second to snap out of my dazed silence and realize I have yet to say a word to him.

“You can’t do _what_ anymore?” I ask then, because what else is there to ask?

He doesn’t look at me when he says “Being your friend, that’s what”

It feels like a fucking blow to the stomach.

And it’s not really the surprise of it- I never really thought he’d stick around in the first place. No, what bothers me is the fact that saying it out loud makes it final.

I knew he’d tire out of me again someday soon. But one thing is _knowing_ \- hearing my expectations confirmed out loud is another thing altogether.

It fucking hurts and a part of me is wondering why I’m never enough for him, not even as a friend and it’s awful and _damn it, Magnus, I can’t believe I let you hurt me again!_

My eyes grow cold- because that’s what I do best, isn’t it? Shutting myself off, that is- and I slowly rise from my seat.

I don’t even want to know what brought this on- I don’t care. I can’t stay another minute in his fucking presence.

“Alright,” I finally say, forcing myself to shrug as if to say _hey, it’s not that big of a deal_.

I can’t look at him as I step away from that blasted swing.

“Do you even fucking care, Alexander?” his shouted words, filled with loathing and exasperation, force me to stop dead on my tracks.

I turn around slowly, fists clenched at my sides.

 _Do I even care_?! Oh, that’s rich!

“You’re the one who’s leaving- again, might I add- and _I’m_ the one who doesn’t care?” I hiss sarcastically, matching the fire in his eyes with my own.

“I just told you I don’t want to be your friend anymore and what did you say? _Alright_ , that’s what! _Alright_! Does it sound like you care?!” he spits angrily.

I roll my eyes “What was I supposed to say, Magnus?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

“You could’ve asked me why, for example, or-”

“ _Why_ , then, Magnus, don’t you want to be my friend anymore?” I cut him off, exasperated.

“Because I fucking love you, that’s why!” he shouts it. He fucking _shouts_ it! I stare at him wide-eyed, completely taken aback, and Magnus- well, he looks as speechless as I am, almost surprised by his own words.

“I love you” he repeats, his voice sharply quiet now. He isn’t looking at me anymore, his eyes fixed somewhere behind my shoulders. My heart is beating wildly inside my ribcage, and the sound of the blood pulsing into my ears almost drowns his voice out. “I am in love with you, Alexander, I think I’ve been all along” He lets out a choked, self-deprecating laugh “And I hate what I’ve done to you, I-Oh, God, I’m sorry”

I am speechless. I stare at him without really seeing anything past the tears in his eyes, the way he’s playing almost obsessively with the rings on his fingers.

“You love me,” I say it like it’s more of a question than a statement, and Magnus nods, unable to meet my eyes.

And suddenly I’m laughing, because I can’t fucking believe it. _He loves me_. It feels like the most terrible of jokes.

“There’s nothing funny about it, Alexander,” Magnus says, sounding –and looking- moderately annoyed.

“Isn’t there, though?” I ask, still giggling hysterically “You telling me you love me? That you’ve loved me all along?! How can you not see how absolutely hilarious _that_ is? God- do you know what you did to me? Do you even remotely _realize_ ” my voice cracks and I think I might be crying, now “what I went through because of you?” I finally ask him, breathing heavily.

“Alexan-” he starts, eyes wide, almost scared.

“Shut up!” I cut him off loudly “Just shut the fuck up and listen to me- You owe me that much!” And there it is- maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe the little trick about not being my friend he pulled earlier, but I’ve finally had enough.

“Do you know how hard I tried to get over you?” I wonder quietly, more to myself than to him “How many strangers I’ve fucked to forget your fucking name without really succeeding?” I’m shaking as I say this, memories upon memories of hasty hookups and drunken quickies in dirty stalls, chasing after blissed oblivion- it all comes back to my mind. 

I take deep satisfaction from the wince Magnus tries unsuccessfully to hide at my words.

 _Good_ , I think viciously, _you fucking deserve it_.

My voice gets lower still until it’s barely more than a whisper “Do you know how fucking _lost_ I felt? How much I needed you?” I ask him without really expecting a response.

Magnus is crying- but for the first time in my life I don’t pity him, I don’t want to make it better nor do I hate him for his weakness. No, I don’t feel _anything_.

“You were the only one supposed to be there, to stick with me. The only one, Magnus. But you left, too, and- do you know what _that_ did to me?”

A hoarse, breathless laugh escapes my lips then “And now you come here and tell me you still love me? _That you never stopped_? Do you even know what loving someone _means_?” My voice rises towards the end as I look at my ex-boyfriend straight in the eyes, the desperate need for him to finally, finally understand almost choking me.

And Magnus- Magnus is quiet. Silent. Speechless.

His eyes are burning, though, as they meet mine head-on.

“I’ll spend the rest of my time proving to you how much I _do_ love you, Alexander, and how much I mean it- if it is the last thing I do.” He says, and his voice is shaky, low, but I can’t deny the hint of steel laying underneath. I don't let myself believe him. He's lying. He must be.

Surprisingly, though, he stays true to his words.

Upon his insistence, we meet up for coffee –in a place of my choice, thank you very much- at least every Friday morning and he always, always shows up, even when I’m positive he has other, more important things to do.

He stops by with breakfast when he knows I’ve got a free morning and sends me quick, funny messages during the day to let me know he's thinking about me.

Contrary to my expectations, he keeps this up for the next six months- and in true Alec fashion, I find myself reluctantly falling for him again. Or have I ever even stopped loving him?

It hits me suddenly, while I’m working out at my favorite gym.

The weights behind me limp lifelessly as I freeze on the bench.

I’ve fallen in love with Magnus Bane. _Again_.

This realization scares the shit out of me, because _no, not again_. _I can't do this._

And so I do the easiest thing- I run, and hide at my manager’s villa for a while, at least until Magnus manages to catch up to me.

He sits down next to me on that bench next to the rose bush that has become my favorite moping spot and sighs.

“If I told you I love you, would you believe me now?”

I sigh, running a tired hand through my hair “I-yeah, I would” I admit, because nothing in the last few months has led me to believe otherwise. I’m not sure if it’s enough, though.

“I’m glad,” he says, and even if I’m not looking at him I can almost hear the half-smile curving up his lips.

We fall into a thoughtful silence after that, each lost in his own mind.

Magnus says he loves me- and I believe he _believes_ it because, despite everything else, he wouldn’t lie about this. No, he has always been upfront with his feelings.

But-

“I was with Camille for less than two years, I’m not sure you knew that,” Magnus says just like that, completely out of the blue.

I frown at the non sequitur and slowly shake my head “I didn’t know, no” I admit.

After he left me, I spent the subsequent three years trying to avoid anything and everyone which reminded me in any way of him. Can you fucking blame me?

“Why didn’t you reach out earlier, then?” I ask curiously, tilting my head to the side to study him.

He looks at me with what appears to be regret in his eyes “I didn’t think you would want me to. I was too- ashamed. I was sure that after everything I’d done to you, you were better off without me. But please, believe me when I say there wasn’t a fucking day I didn’t think about you.”

“What changed, then?”

He shrugs “I told you- I heard your song and from that I realized you weren’t so over me as I originally thought. You didn’t sound- healed. No, you sounded heartbroken, and I couldn’t stand it. Not when I could hear in your voice clear as day that you still loved me. I couldn’t stay away then, because I was hurting just as much as you were and while I do deserve it, you really don’t. I had to do something.”

All the air leaves my lungs, and I find myself breathless at his words.

Because this-this changes _everything_.

“And then we met at that damned café, and I could see how much you were in pain, how difficult it was for you to see me again. I didn’t push, I let you feed me your bullshit even though there was nothing more I wanted than to call you out on it. And after that- I couldn’t find in myself the strength to leave you.” His voice is shaky by the end, and I can see he’s barely keeping it together.

Not that I’m faring much better, because he’s just struck me dumb.

I’m staring at him completely stunned, barely even breathing, as his words run in circles inside my head.

“I just- I’ll go,” he whispers after a while, taking my silence as an obvious rejection.

“Don’t” I say quietly, because while I may not know what I want nor what I feel yet, I’m at least aware that I couldn’t stand seeing him walk away from me again.

“Stay, please,” I say, and I hate the vulnerable, almost fragile pitch my voice has acquired. I'm better, stronger than that.

He slowly sits back down, resting his head upon my shoulder. And I’m glad he can’t see me, because I’m crying like a fucking baby now.

“I’ll be right here for as long as you need me, you know” he informs me quietly, steadily, and my heart is thumping loudly inside my chest, stronger and far more vital than it has been in years.

I kiss him on a Friday, less than two months later.

“Of course I’ll stay here, Alexander” Magnus is saying in his most obvious are-you-dumb-or-what tone, as if asking him whether or not he’d rather join his colleagues at the pub instead of staying at my bedside keeping vigil while I keep on sneezing my way to death is somewhat ridiculous. And it’s the way he says it, convinced, honest, that makes me sit up on that fucking bed and kiss him, puffiness and snot and all.

The kiss is short, a feather-light brush of my lips against his -I’m fucking ill, and I don’t want to mix him anything, because Magnus is insufferable when he’s feeling less than absolutely, 100 % stellar- but it’s enough to put a brilliant, hopeful smile on his face.

And that happiness radiating from him in waves, that hope etched in every trait of his handsome face- that's what makes me feel like something has finally been permanently, definitely fixed inside me.

**Author's Note:**

> Well? Did you like it? :) If you did -or even if you didn't, I can appreciate constructive criticism- do let me know in the comments! I'm looking forward to it :)  
> Thanks for reading!


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